The Hired Wife (24 page)

Morley washed
out his mouth with another mouthful of wine. He wanted the woman so
bad he was salivating like a starving dog. His heart racing, he
felt drenched in sweat. He needed to immerse himself in cold water.
It was illogical to order a bath when there was a lake to swim in.
Morley allowed himself one more mouthful of wine before dropping
the glass and setting off. He felt pleasantly dizzy, but his head
was clear. It took more than a few bottles of wine to topple a
Fitzalan.

The air smelled
clean and fresh; the rain had been pushed on by a brisk breeze
leaving the night sky exposed. The wet treacherous steps down to
the lake were made difficult by the spinning moonlight, but Morley
was too excited by the idea of being in the water to slow his pace.
Reaching the shore he waded in without disrobing. Sighing with
pleasure, light waves lapped at his naked chest and gushed under
his silk robe washing away his salty sweat. He closed his eyes to
block out the dizzy moonlight, but it accentuated the strange ache
in his head. Immersing himself brought momentary relief and after a
few minutes his heart slowed. Lifting his feet from the lakebed he
floated onto his back. Relaxed he stared at the spinning stars and
spat out another mouthful of saliva. The cool water was getting
colder, but the thought of climbing back up the hill in sopping a
wet robe made him groan with irritation. Battered, sore and growing
colder by the minute; his body needed to be in a soft warm bed.
Even his burning desire for revenge couldn’t dull the need for
sleep.

Thoughts of
curling up with a hot water bottle at his feet and Marshall’s wife
in his arms made him shiver with longing. He might not get to hold
Mary, but having several hot water bottles tucked around his body
would feel exquisite. Turning towards the shore he tried to swim
the ten feet back to safety, but his legs wouldn’t move.

Splashing hard
towards shore he realised he could no longer feel his feet. Panic
cramped his muscles as the ice crept up to his knees. Diving head
first, he thrashed his arms simultaneously through the water like
paddles. His lungs bursting with emptiness, he dragged his legs
behind him into the shallows. He tried to stand up, but couldn’t
feel his legs. Face down in the water, he pressed up off the lake
bed with his arms and lifted his head out of the water for much
needed air. Panic was intensified by a terrifying new emotion that
filled his eyes with tears. He was going to drown if he couldn’t
get out of the water. He screamed for help, but his bruised throat
could only manage a horse cry before he fell back into the water.
Thrashing harder with his arms, he kept his head above the water,
but he couldn’t feel his hips. Fear clamped his mind in a sickening
vice; he’d never been afraid of death when inflicting it on
others.

The taste of
fear made him nauseous as he sobbed in terror of the unknown as he
gasped for air. His head was throbbing, but his mind was clear. He
wasn’t drunk; his valet had poisoned the wrong bottles. The
symptoms all pointed to a deadly dose of hemlock. The ice creeping
up his trunk would soon freeze his heart. Another energetic
thrashing against the cold clingy water allowed him to fill his
lungs with air. Fear was compressed by rage. He’d never possess
Mary Godfrey or see her belly swollen with a Fitzalan babe. His
hoarse scream of fury faded as his heart convulsed with icy pain.
The Marquis of Morley had no more need for air as he fell face
forward into the lake. The soft waves eagerly swallowed the dead
man and carried him away into the inky darkness.

The wooden oars
sliced serenely through the water compelling the boat forward while
its two occupants sat in companionable silence. Late morning
sunlight dazzled the calm lake mirroring surrounding hillsides.
Mary peered from under her pink parasol at the strong man in his
shirtsleeves rowing her with a smug knowing grin. He appeared to be
admiring the scenery, but every few minutes the brim of his straw
hat would tip down and dark sapphires would smile at her. He knew
he was being admired. She blushed as his piercing blue eyes raked
her with apparent pleasure and pulled her parasol down to shield
her face from her companion causing noises of discontent from the
other end of the boat.

Mary shuddered
with pleasure as she struggled to convince herself not to be a
hasty fool. She was tempted to tell him she’d happily remain Mrs
Godfrey forever, but did she love him? She’d painted herself into a
corner. If she agreed to remain his wife he’d now expect her to be
in love with him. Peering around the edge of her parasol the left
sapphire winked at her as the sounds of discontent turned into
cheerful humming making her laugh. Whatever his feelings, Marshall
appeared willing to make a fool of himself if it meant winning her
heart. The endearing thought made her sigh with pleasure.

Uncovering her
face, she returned the parasol behind her head and spun it in her
hands. The warmth of the sun, the beauty of the lake, the soft
dreamy sounds of oars raking through water, the sight of her
husband’s bare forearms as they moved the oars; the day would have
been perfect but for Morley’s threats. Tensing, she blinked away
tears at the awful thought of sapphire eyes losing life. Thankfully
the evil man hadn’t appeared at breakfast. Lady Alyce had happily
reported that the Marquis of Morley was probably in a laudanum
induced slumber after being pummelled senseless by his host. Mary
hoped Morley would be incapacitated until his enforced
departure.

Eying the vast
sheet of water that separated her from the hateful man, Mary sighed
with relief and allowed her thoughts to return to her companion.
That morning she’d opened her eyes and heard him whisper in her
ear, ‘Good morning Sweetheart!’ In her sleepy brain the words had
been a gentle caress filled with love. She’d barely resisted an
urge to roll into his arms and comb her fingers through his wild
hair. After barricading both doors with heavy furniture, he’d slept
the night fully dressed at her side with a loaded pistol next to
the bed. The Earl of Morley would have had to use an axe to get
into her chamber and even then he wouldn’t have reached the bed
alive.

A brisk breeze
rattled down the hillside and across the water filling her nostrils
with the sickly sweet scent of death. Mary pinched her nose as
Marshall coughed in disgust. “Something’s dead!” He continued
rowing the boat as if to make another loop around the lake, but the
unpleasant scent seemed to follow them. “I’m going to row back to
the house.” Mary merely nodded as she kept her fingers on her nose
as the boat was turned towards the steps. “This stench is going to
ruin my appetite.” Mary’s stomach rumbled in disagreement as she
wished she’d brought a picnic basket. Lunch would now involve
facing Morley whose presence would sour the sweetest pudding. With
any luck he’d be too ill to leave his bed. Mary pushed the hateful
man from her thoughts and concentrated on enjoying the present.
With his shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows and his cravat
untied, her burly Lord looked more like a courting smithy in his
Sunday best. “I believe my Lady is admiring my naked arms.” The
loud words rumbled across the water causing Mary’s cheeks to colour
as she looked away towards the castle on the island causing more
noises of discontent until she returned her gaze to her companion
who smiled in triumph and winked at her again making her laugh. How
could she not fall in love with the man? Fears of Morley were
forgotten as her eyes were held firmly by adoring sapphires. Time
slowed as the boat slid along its projected course without
interference from the resting oars. “Ah Merry, if you knew how
you’ve undone me…” The husky words reverberated down her spine
lighting up a heart shaped candle in her chest. Bowing his broad
brimmed hat, Marshall released her from the spell and ploughed the
oars into the water.

There was
nothing she could say that he’d hear. It felt like an hour before
he lifted his head. Dangling her hand into the lake she smiled and
winked before flicking a handful of water at him. Momentarily
startled, his gleaming eyes narrowed as he carefully lowered one of
the oars into the water and drenched her in turn. She sent another
handful of water towards his face and laughed as she used her
parasol to shield her from his next deluge. “You’re lucky you can’t
swim Mrs Godfrey or I’d tip you into the lake. That would teach
you…” Her next handful of water splattered him in the eye.
“Impudent wife! So you think that’s funny? Wait till we reach the
shore…” His ominous tone was softened by a suppressed grin. He
flicked another oar into the water and drenched the front of her
dress. “…we’re going to see once and for all whether you’re human
or mermaid. Oh you think that’s funny too do you? You wait till I
throw you in the lake and don’t think that parasol is going to save
you! I don’t know why I bought it. I hate parasols.” He rowed
harder as he watched his laughing wife twirl her parasol blissfully
indifferent to her impending fate. The boat slid to an abrupt halt
as it hit land. Waving her parasol in victory, Mary jumped up and
leapt overboard into knee deep water and splashed towards the
shore, but Marshall was right behind her. She shrieked in protest
as he scooped her out of the water and held her horizontal. “Were
you going somewhere Sweetheart?”

Mary lifted the
parasol so it shaded them from anyone looking down the hill. “You
do not want to throw me in the lake.”

“Don’t I?”

“No. Your wife
would smell like trout.”

“I like trout;
especially with capers…”

“Mermaids don’t
come garnished! If you throw me in I’ll come up gasping for air
smelling like a trout fresh off the lake bed.”

“Hmmm…I’ve
never tried mermaid and capers. Hold up a leg. Let me see if it’s
turned into a mermaid’s tail.” Mary held up a single sodden slipper
and waited while her ankle received a thorough appraisal.
“Hmmm…charming; I find everything about you magical.” The heart
shaped candle in Mary’s chest flickered with a bluish flame. How
would she know if she fell in love with him when his eyes made her
feel like she’d been dropped on her head? Clutching a handful of
linen, warm masculine breath fanned the flame in her chest. Fire
surged through her veins spreading to her stomach. Curling closer
to the masculine heart celebrating her nearness, the warm moist
lips withdrew without warning and she was plonked on her feet in
the water. Dizzy with disappointment she watched her husband
inexplicably wade out into the lake and disappear under the water.
“Marshall?” Dropping her parasol, she chewed on her fist as her
heart started pounding as she waited. She burst into tears of
relief as he appeared gasping for air and then sank back into the
cold depths. A few seconds later he bobbed back to the surface and
opened his eyes. Seeing her tears he quickly swam back to the
shallows and waded to her side. “I thought you’d never come back up
for air!”

“I was in need
of a cold swim.”

Mary tried to
sniff back her tears. “You could have told me you were going to
dive to the bottom.”

“Be careful
your tears don’t fall into the lake Sweetheart, not unless you plan
to ask the Lady of the Lake to grant a wish that your heart will
love me forever.”

Mary watched
her last tear land in the water near her knees and ripple tiny
circles before looking into her husband’s eyes. “I’d ask her to
make you fall in love with me.”

The man went
still as if he’d forgotten how to breathe and then his elastic lips
stretched into a smile as his chest echoed with amused laughter.
“Why would my Lady want this boring old heart? No one else wants
it.”

“Because…” A
cynical single masculine eyebrow lifted to query her non-answer.
Mary eyes filled with more tears as wet fingers caressed her
throat. “…if I fall in love with you…well why would you fall in
love me? I’m going to suffer unrequited love…”

“You
underestimate your charms Merry Wife. If you choose to waste a
magic wish on the old boot in my chest you have my permission to do
so…do you love me?”

Mary flinched
at the soft question and answered without thinking. “I don’t know
what I feel; I don’t want to hurt you. What if I persuade myself
that I love you because I enjoy your company and love your kisses?
I want to love you, so how will I know I love you?”

Two trembling
wet hands lovingly captured her face, “I don’t want to wait two
months to know my fate. Tell me you wish to remain my wife and I’ll
accept it.”

“But
Marshall…”

“Of course I
want you to love me, but I’d rather have something than nothing.
The fact you want to love me is almost as sweet…”

Mary shivered
with longing; with a few simple words she’d be assured a future
void of hunger or loneliness. He wouldn’t be able to change his
mind or legally cast her from his garden. “I don’t think even Eve
was tempted with such an apple…”

Marshall’s lips
explored her right ear causing seductive chills, “Take a bite and
I’ll carry you to my room and consummate the marriage. It’ll be
enough. Say it will?”

Mary closed her
eyes and tried to think through the pleasurable haze caused by lips
on her earlobe. Why did she have to be in love with him to be his
wife? If she was going to fall in love with him, she’d fall in love
with him anyway. If the man didn’t care if she loved him or not,
what difference did it make? It was his life. She couldn’t force
him to choose love. She’d give him children and work hard to make
his house a home, but would it be enough? He’d give her everything,
even the children; what would she give him in return? What would
she be to him, a warm body in his bed? That wasn’t what he wanted,
or was it? And if she wanted to be the warm body in his bed, did it
matter? The temptation to continue their last kiss in private made
her head spin. She opened her mouth to tell him she’d stay, but
nothing came out. Hopeful blue eyes held her heart captive as she
exhaled her selfish longing. She couldn’t sell her body for future
meals or kisses and he deserved more than a bed warmer. The man
deserved to be adored by his wife; to wake up every morning in his
own love poem. If she crawled into his bed for her own physical
comfort she’d hate herself and he’d probably end up hating her too.
The thought of seeing contempt in the living sapphires made her
feel physically ill. She shook her head. “I can’t eat that
apple…it’s tempting, but it has a worm in it.”